2015.09.26 - Gathering: A Family Reunion, Courtesy of the Winter Queen
The sun has set on La Push Washington. The first evening that the southern wolf tribe from Beacon Hills are present, visiting for the weekend. The party welcoming them started just as the sun was setting. The bonfire lit, and music playing. The wolves of La Push wrestled and played as they often did. Sam Uley and the entire pack were present to greet their 'brothers' from California. There was food, which Jason provided since it was an uncommonly large group. Simple things though, much like what they usually had at their parties. Burgers, hotdogs, corn on the cob. Messy and easy things really. The weather was cool, especially with the ocean breezes. The sound of the crashing surf a constant reminder of the nearby Pacific and the area where the pack usually cliff dived. Far below on the beach was the obstacle course. Now in it's seventh iteration and quite challenging, it was imposing even from a distance. With the food and wrestling festivities winding down a little. As well as a few people having left to change, after getting tossed off the cliffs. The remaining wolves gather around the fire. This has become somewhat customary, with Jason telling them all stories of the past. Werewolf history in a manner of speaking. He nods to Sam Uley, as a show of respect from one alpha to another. Then includes the same to Brock, Scott, and finally Jacob. "This is a special occasion, and so I am going to tell a story that is appropriate to our guests." He pauses a moment to allow everyone to get ready for the tale. Jacob has restrained a bit from the usual playfulness tonight. For one thing, he's trying to be attentive to their guests; while he hasn't really gotten a chance to sit and talk with Scott McCall yet, he still greeted him warmly and has made sure that everyone in his pack has plenty of food and is generally included, though he's had to intervene a little--''yes, we're all looking at you, Paul''--when things got too rowdy. After all, Jake knows that their southern cousins aren't used to the kind of roughhousing that goes on up here. They're more city-folk, and thus civilized--and thus probably not used to casual fist fights or wrestling matches. Or so he assumes, anyway, but the point is that he's friendly, welcoming, and--not to put too fine a point on it--in every way that Jason's welcome, earlier, was grandiose and refined, Jacob's welcome has been rustic, homespun, and simple but sincere. When they gather by the fire, Jacob sits just beside Jason, smiling fondly as he waits for his mate to begin the tale. Since this is a special occassion and a special gathering... Paul's spent most of his time in wolf form and keeping a watchful eye out for unwanted guests. Though as Jacob noted, he did engage in a little roughousing and wrestling with fellow packmates. But right now his mind is on this task. The last thing they need is someone stumbling on the proceedings... or worse, something more more malicious paying them a visit. Not that he hasn't dashed into the main gathering on occassion to snatch a burger or hot dog off someone (usually Jacob's) plate before retreating to his vigil. Often by leaping over the guests or whapping them in the head with a tail with a mind of it's own as he passes. His keen hearing in his form can just as easily catch the tale that Jason is telling as much as it can an invader to the lands. Scott McCall has rather enjoyed the party thus far, though part of his mind can't help but catalog the tactical situation. There are a lot of these northern wolves. And a lot of alphas. More than one or two of those around at a time are enough to be worrying after his pack's recent battle with the Alpha pack. And at the sight of the werewolves getting a bit rowdy, the young alpha made sure to keep himself close to his pack members. He doesn't quite let that whole 'alpha authority' aura fly, because that would be a challenge to Jason and Jacob and the rest on their own turf, but his body language suggests that he doesn't want anybody roughhousing with his people unless they start it. And the fact that these northerners are very different than his kind of werewolf is reinforced by the sight of that huge (damn, that dude is the size of a horse!) wolf that is Paul bounding and stalking around. Scott is truly hoping things don't go bad here, because he's pretty sure he knows how that fight would end. Which makes the young alpha a little tense and stiff as he listens and watches more than he speaks. Despite being a southerner, so to speak--weird concept for a kid from California, really, since "Southern" means such a specific and different thing in most contexts--and not even a werewolf, Stiles has fit in pretty well. Most wouldn't expect it from such a geeky guy, but while he's no master woodsman, he's quite comfortable in rusting settings and has always enjoyed camping. He's even rocking one of his favorite flannels for the occasion, plus a coat, because while hot-blooded werewolves might be comfortable in coastal Washington weather at the onset of autumn, Stiles is only human and gets chilly like anyone. Still, the fire is warm, the food is good, and Stiles seems to fit in well enough for some random city boy, even if that's mostly just because he's animated and not afraid to join in a laugh at his own expense. While he shares Scott's sense of caution and vigilance, he also seems more relaxed--maybe calculatedly so--and making an effort so ease any tensions that might arise. He's spent any spare moments keeping an eye on Liam, who's been around but hanging with some of the younger crowd (while eating what must be his weight in hamburgers and hot dogs). When story time rolls around, Stiles claps Scott on the back and sits beside him at the fireside. Leaning close, he murmurs--knowing full well that others can hear him--and says lightly, "Betcha didn't know this whole thing would come with a school part, huh? Hope there's no quiz after." Brock has been a little moody since Brodie up and ran off the last time. But since he can keep in contact with him, the alpha lion has been a little less worried in the sense that his brother is lost, and more upset that the teen is running off on his own, outside of his reach. Being an alpha, he of course likes to keep a close tab on those that are of his pride. He is sitting in the corner of the party, playing the silent role, up until the Beacon hills group arrives. Being the teacher, probably a little awkward that he'd be here, considering he told only one person what his personal absences consisted of. There is that palpable radiation of his majesty that fills the area in it's golden glory, while Brock himself remains comtemplative. Jason Christopher looks at Scott and those from the south. "Our kind, werewolves but also other breeds of shifters as well, have existed well beyond the scope of recorded history. The Quileutes themselves can trace their history to times before the great flood. An event that was recorded in various places around the world. But which is perhaps most well known as an event in the Christian faiths bible. I mention it, because there was a werewolf that was in fact elevated to the status of saint. Saint Christopher, the patron saint of travellers was one of our kind. In his youth he came from an area of north Africa called Marmaritae. There was a great tribe of werewolves that called that area home. They were wild, and according to our histories virtually feral." He sips at some water from a cup and then continues, the fire light dancing in his yellow eyes. "That changed when he heard the words of a Christian missionary. He questioned his actions, the life he had been leading. According to legends an Angel appeared and touched his lips, granting him the ability to speak in all languages. He travelled throughout the Greek World, still a werewolf. But now preaching peace, and the word of god. No longer killing, but teaching that one may live without the need to do so, and that situations might be defused as readily through peaceful means as with claws. St. Christopher's name in Greek meant Christ bearer, he who would carry the infant Jesus on his shoulders. But his name in Latin was Reprebus, a corruption of reprobus, or wicked. Illustrating that our kind, like all other living things, make a choice. To embrace wickedness, or transcend it and become. Well, if not saints, certainly more than beasts." He finishes his tale and nods to Scott McCall. The tale was of course to honor him, and the morality that he brought to being a werewolf, as well as to his his pack. Finishing it he takes another sip of his water, and leans further back from the flames. There is an odd feeling of electricity in the air tonight. Jason can feel it, as he often does with things of nature and magic applying to it. It seems to flow through the area, and it has him slightly ill at ease. Though he isn't exactly displaying it. Oddly he gets a nagging feeling some of it is in the air, like a charge. But there is something else as well. Something between them here at the fire. He glances around trying to pinpoint it exactly. Jacob.....and....Scott? His brow creases as he tries to figure out what might be causing that between the two alphas. A, connection, of a sort. Jacob listens to the story with a content little smile on his face, showing just a hint of a full grin at the corners. Unlike Jason, he was raised like a human and still largely thinks like one--when he shows his teeth, it doesn't mean anything in particular unless he's in his wolf phase. He does make it a point to look toward Scott and cock an eyebrow, raising his cup of root beer in the visiting alpha's direction. It may have something to do with the strange feeling of kinship he's sensing from Scott McCall, or perhaps it's simply that Jakes sees that in many ways they have much in common: Both come from simple stock and never knew lives of opulence and finery, such as Jason is clearly accustomed to, and if nothing else, Jason is put at ease by Scott's sincere manner. The fact that the other alpha seems a bit guarded and concern only garners Jacob's respect, and he's tried to let this show with a subtle deference all through the evening. When the story finishes, he says without irony, "Maybe we'll learn something like that from our cousins from Beacon Hills." Casting a glance pointedly over his shoulder into the woods where Paul is, he points out, "Some of us maybe could use some civilizing." Returning that nod from Jason, Scott tilts his head a little and his expression is thoughtful. His dark eyes glitter in the firelight and he glances aside at Stiles and he murmurs, "Why do I feel like I should be dressed for church?" He's wearing jeans, work boots and a v-neck t-shirt under a denim jacket. A little light for this weather, but he is a werewolf. The young alpha is somehow aware of being appraised and he turns his head to meet Jacob's eyes. There is something like a tingle of recognition between the two of them. He understands Jacob a lot more than Jason. And suspects the two of them would be friends, eventually. Scott being Scott, he can't help but nod and smile faintly at the other werewolf. Because hey, nobody's raised a claw yet. And then, because both Jason and Jacob's words seem to require an answer, the teenager clears his throat and says, "Well, we have a lot to learn about our wolf sides, too. Maybe we can all help each other." His tone is a bit hesitant and thoughtful, but has Scott's characteristic earnestness to it. As though he wouldn't have said it if he weren't already committed in his mind to helping the northern packs when and if they needed it. Of course, hearing all this bible talk isn't exactly what Paul was expecting. But he doesn't continue to listen and consider such things. Though for now he makes no comment on the story, since well... that would mean he'd have to shift back to normal. Though Jacob's comment about 'civilizing' earns a loud snort from the treeline. Nobody tames the Wild Paul. Especially now... for when you play with fire you get burned. Stiles gives an impressed sort of nod at the story, but he's not as chatty as usual tonight--and not, this time, because he seems too anxious to speak. Instead, he has a laid back air about him (well, laid back for him, anyway) and does his best to let Scott make the main impression and just show solidarity with his alpha. He flashes a grin at Scott's "church" comment, and after Scott speaks up about what they have to learn, Stiles gives him a silent nod that clearly communicates between the two of them, nice job. No sense trying to whisper anything in this group, after all. He barely--''just'' barely--resists the urge to test Jason's admiration for his witty banter by saying, "Cool story, bro." But for Scott, Stiles manage to keep it to himself. Probably better dressed than Brock who is wearing sports shorts and no shirt at all, because he has problems with shifting and the destruction of clothing. Plus, he isn't the type to care much. The story doesn't lull him to sleep, at least, which isn't too hard to do, since the alpha can get distracted pretty easily. He looks at the conversation between Jacob and Scott, and sorta has to hood his eyes a bit, tensing his jaw, "Ya know there, McCall-- Ya coulda' just accepted my offer ta help when ah gave it at first. Ah'm not a wolf, but a was sposed ta be one. Ya prolly noticed by now that ah have a bit of a handle on the beast side of things." Brock looks at the back of his own hand, probably a bit smuggly. "Ah've been ofern ta teach since day one. But no worries... yer all young. And onna ya don't know a thing bout bein' a beast." The first hint of something out of the ordinary--''really'' out of the ordinary, anyway, given that two wolf packs from across the West Coast is a bit unusual in and of itself--is when the first snowflake falls. It drifts lazily down and, unless he reacts, it may land right on Scott McCall's nose. Its fellows arrive soon after, and in a matter of seconds the clear, starry night has been transformed into a light snowstorm, right in the middle of September. Even more oddly, the chill wind seems to be blowing from the east, toward Forks, rather than in from the ocean like usual. And then they hear it, a voice on the wind, too substantive to be called "ghostly" but too ethereal to seem quite substantive. Alpha wolves of north and south, Lion of family pride, Alpha wolf of none--'' ''I call you forth. I charge you to bear witness. Jason Christopher Lupus, I beckon. Come, come, thrice I say, and done. By blood, by frost, by what was lost--'' ''By The Watchman I wait, And I'll tarry not long. The weather shifts. It is now: snow. Jason Christopher is a bit distracted, trying to puzzle out the odd feeling he has. It actually seems to be getting worse. Making his hackles rise, and the hair on his arms stand on end. He does nod to Jacob, putting an arm around him. Then he answers both Jake and Scott, and to a lesser extent Paul's snort of derision. "Civilization, and it's trappings. It has it's advantages, at times. But we are of both worlds. The wild and civilization both. Stray to far towards one or the other and you will never truly know yourself. We are of wolf and man." He nods to Brock and smiles in that tight lipped way. "Or Lion and man as the case may be. To be to much of either, we lose our focus, our equilibrium. In that, yes I believe we will all help one another." Focus though, is something he has lost a little of at the moment. The feeling in the air, as well that between Jacob and Scott, only seemed to be intensifying. Jason glances at Brock and chuckles faintly. "Brock, appearances to the contrary. I must assume you were speaking to our other guests." Referencing the fact that Brock was a guest as well. "Given I am somewhat older than I appear-" He trails off at the snow, flowing to his feet with that uncanny manner he seems to have. Where it seems like he has hardly moved at all, and yet all evidence clearly indicates he has. He says in a half whispered voice. "The Watchman..." He looks at the others and then says matter of factly. "Come as you are able." Then he is moving, even in his human phase far faster than humanly possible. Building to a sprint, he is running faster than the speed limits on any of the local roads. Whatever this was, he had sworn an oath that no harm would come to the guests of the pack. IF it was a threat...Well Brock might well see just how much Jason Christopher DID know about being a Beast. Jacob's about to say something cheerful and playful in response to Brock's (seemingly good-natured) grousing and Jason's response, but then things get... well, weird. Weird even for around here. In a moment he's on his feet, looking to Sam Uley, who gives him a nod of approval. Jake calls out, knowing Paul will hear him, "Paul! Help Scott and his friend. They don't know the way. When we find out what's going on, you can report back to Sam." He gives the other alpha--the one who was apparently snubbed by the ethereal speaker, which he'll feel a bit bad about later--a respectful nod, and then he looks to Scott. "Whatever it was, it called you, too. If you want to come along, Paul will guide you there." He gives his southern cousin a nod of respect to match the one he gave Sam, and then Jake's off, running into the woods, and once he's gone from view, quickly undressing so he can phase and cross the distance at much, much greater speed, as Jason does. Sighing, Scott turned to Brock and said, "Dude. My pack barely survived being attacked by a pack of Alphas. If I was having a hard time trusting a powerful Alpha, i was probably because I needed to protect my people and let them heal." He fixes his gaze on the much bigger man and says, "You get that, right? It's kind of an animal instinct thing, I think. That doesn't mean I don't want your help now." His eyebrows are lowered and his voice a bit tight at being taken to task in front of the other alphas, but he tries to keep it under control. Reacting badly would be more embarrassing than being spoken to like a wayward child. When the snow falls, the young alpha's eyes actually cross briefly as he tries to track the first snowflake as it lands on his nose and then, at the mysterious voice, he stands, tense enough that he's ready for trouble. And then Jacob is tearing off into the woods. Scott looks toward Stiles and Liam and hesitates briefly, then says, "I'm not going to tell you to stay, because you won't. But be careful, okay?" And with that, he's following Jason, wolfing-out and moving fast in that scrambling, shambling crouched run that doesn't look like it should be fast but eats up distance ravenously. He grins at the thought he needs a guide. He is a wolf and he has a nose. He can follow the elder wolf's scent. And indeed.... Paul comes bounding back out of the treeline. Leaping over the firepit, the licking flames seeming to embrace his feet as he does and lands before Scott and his friends. The massive wolf sniffs and jabs him in the belly with his nose and then whips his head around towards the treeline. There's a soft gruff as he's made to play guide to the visitors but he does as asked of him... even not charging ahead no matter how much he desires to in order to ensure they don't get lost on the journey to where the others are headed. Stiles is on his feet beside Scott, barely restraining himself from giving Brock a look of pure death-hate-die-cat-thing, when the first flake falls. He turns to stare at the snowflake, distracted as only an ADD kid can be, as his brain starts immediately protesting this development. He turns to Scott with eyebrows raised and is about to point this out--but before he can get too far into thoughts of climate change, that creepy as hell voice starts in, and Stiles's eyes go wide. Stiles takes off after Scott as fast as he can with Liam hot on his heels, but soon enough the scrappy little beta-puppy overtakes the human, and it's clear that Stiles just isn't going to be able to keep up. Probably he'd never make it at all if Paul didn't get disgusted with him and, ducking his head under Stiles literally flip the human onto his back and carry him. Stiles might be embarrassed or startled by this, but he's far too busy thinking how freaking cool this is, even as he holds on for dear life. Brock, for his age and faculty position over the Beacon Hill's kids, sure can sink down to their level and give a heavy ribbing, poking the bear as it were. He's just that kinda guy. Good heart, but he can mess with people even if he doesn't fully intend to. "Oh, no I get it. I'm actually just still waitin on a proper apology fer bein attacked with fire equipment." Brock sighs and leans back, tucking his hands behind his head, closing his eyes. He opens them a peep, and looks pointedly at Stiles in fact. Doing all but sticking his tongue out at him. He feels snow touch his tanned skin, and the lion opens his eyes, crossing them at the snow. "What in the--" the voice calls, and Brock is forced into that active mode, to where he has to exert himself physically. While everyone starts to run off, Brock in fact jumps. It's not just a hop, because even as a human, Brock is strong, and his leap carries him quickly out of the area, moving off after Jason. Well.... Paul no longer has to move even slower thanks to Stiles. In fact, the rest of the visitors may need to keep up. When Stiless is on his back, he'll recognize how warm the wolf is. Possibly even warmer than the other members of Paul's family. Plus Paul hunches his shoulders a bit, trying to give Stiles a warning to grab hold of a handful of fur and flesh. There's no ... 'Hang on, Spider-Monkey' but something similar is implied by his demeanor. Before Paul breaks into a run, giving Stiles the ride of his life through the woods. Eat your heart our Return of the Jedi and your Speederbikes. A howl of excitement at getting to share this with someone for once... escaping from Paul's throat. Now this is Wolf Racing! The trip is quick, but even so, by the time the wolves arrive at The Watchman, the forest has been transformed into nothing short of a winter wonderland--save for the Watchman itself and the area around it, which remain lush, nearly glowing, with vibrant life. The tree's magic, always strong, is now so potent that even the werewolves with no magical talent will be able to smell the power, crackling on the air like electricity. A Way has been opened very recently, and a powerful one. Yet this power pales in comparison to that of the woman standing a few paces from the tree, just at the edge of the snow. She is tall at an even six feet, and she is beautiful, but it is no human beauty. Her form is as perfect--and as cold--as a flawless marble statue, wrapped in a gown that might have been formed entirely from fallen snow and held together with crystals of ice. Her hair is shock white, swept up into an ornate style that calls to mind frosted holly on a winter's night. Her lips are the red of frozen mulberries, and her eyes are impossibly green, slitted like a cat's. Yet her physical form, as striking as it is, hardly coveys the presence of her. She is not taller than many here, yet she looms among them, wearing a mantle of power with a grace that is casual as it is regal. You can have your Jadis, your Elsa. This is clearly the true Queen of Winter. And she steps forward, arms outstretched, to speak. "Welcome, worthies," she says in a formal tone, though a small quirk about her lips almost suggests the faintest hint of irony at the words. "I welcome you in the spirit of friendship. I give my Oath that as you enter this place, no harm shall come to you. I swear to you and yours, Jacob Black of the Quileutes. To you, Scott McCall, honored True Alpha of Werewolves, and yours. I swear to you, Brock Bryant, of lion's pride. And last, I swear to you, Jason Christopher Lupus, Alpha of Omegas and Lone Wolf." She lowers her hands, and she gives a nod that from anyone else would feel like a stately bow. "By my name and style I swear: Mab, Queen of Air and Darkness, ruler of the Winter Court of Faërie." Jason Christopher tears through the forest, like a ghost. Or more specifically like a ninja. Almost seeming to flit between the shadows and not making a sound as he employs his gift to cover any sound he might have made otherwise. Within moments he is circling The Watchman, from among the trees on it's periphery. Watching, no longer seen or sensed in any manner. He doesn't even leave tracks in the snow. The FREAKING SNOW??!!? He just appraises the situation for a moment. Knowing the others were following as well and that time was short. He would not allow them to fall to injury. Not those he loved among the Pack. Nor those that visited them. He had sworn to that, to Talia's son. That was a oath he would keep come Hell or High Water. But he drops his power and barely bites back a gasp when he sees WHO is there. Of course he knew of her, Mab. Jason steps into the presence of the Fae queen and bowed in respect. He was a prince, but Mab. Mab was a queen. "Lady Mab of the winter court. I bid you welcome. To what then do we owe this portentious visit from the Queen of the Fae?" He adds exactly who this is, and her station so that everyone knows. Be on your best behavior. This was supposed to be a diplomatic endeavor before, in a lose manner. But now. Now shit just got REAL. Jacob arrives just a few seconds behind Jason, having managed to get a pair of shorts here with him somehow, so while he's shirtless and barefoot, at least he's not completely naked when meeting a Fairy Queen. When Jason bows, Jacob emulates it. He's so far out of his depth, here, that it's almost comical, but these are his people's lands, and he'll be damned if he's going to act foolishly when representing them. When Paul arrives, Jacob will shoot him a wary look--not one of reproach, this time, but one that very clearly says be careful, and no doubt, tell Sam to keep everyone away from here! Aloud, he says only, "My... lady." It's the best he can manage, under the circumstances, but this isn't exactly something they taught at the tribal school. Scott McCall scrambles into the clearing, crouched, his features still in that hybrid form with hints of a wolf's features over his human ones and eyes glowing a deep, steady red. Claws dig at the turf as the inhumanly beautiful woman speaks and then Scott blinks. He has absolutely no idea what a Queen of Air and Darkness is, but she seems to have the bearing and raw power to back it up. The young alpha stands up and lets himself slide back to human again, crossing his arms and looking towards Jason, instinctively. If anybody knows what's going on, it will be the oldest of them. And then Jason confirms that. Great. Scott's experience with queens starts and ends with that time that Danny took them to drag night at The Jungle. Seeing both Jason and Jacob bow, he does the same, albeit with an American's lack of grace at the strange gesture. He doesn't speak at all yet but watches carefully, making sure to step in front of Stiles and Liam when they arrive with an instinctively protective gesture that he doesn't even notice. Stiles is still clinging to Paul's back for dear life when they reach the clearing, but once he takes in the sights before him, his eyes hit dinner-plate size. He slides down from the werewolf's back, absently giving him a grateful pat on the flank, and then starts forward to stand at Scott's side, just a bit behind him, in a show of silent support. He too gives a bow, and it's no more graceful or refined than Scott's, and for the moment, Stiles' diplomatic wisdom holds out--he keeps his mouth shut, 'cause if this is who she says she is, then holy shit. Don't meddle in the affairs of wizards is one thing, but fairy queens? Hell no. Huge feet drop and send a shockwave of dirt out under the weight of the dropping lion. Nevermind that he is wearing next to nothing in this snow. He ignores the chill in the air for more important things. Preferably the mystical woman calling out to all of them. The lion king is a bit on the confused side. He would have to consult about the book on this one. Frowning and scratching the back of his head, he looks around at the others to gauge their reaction. "Uh-- right..." he remarks, and clears his throat. The large giant is normally a rowdy doof, but formalities are formalities, and Brock is of noble birth. "M'lady." he crosses a forearm over his chest to bow his respect. Liam Dunbar scrambles behind everyone else. Pretty much the whole party he's been rough housing and goofing off and indeed eating mroe than his weight in hamburgers. He lost his temper once or twice, but a giant wolf the size of a pony, is enough to get him to calm down. And really everything was great until story time, which he listened to sitting at Scott's side. Then This happened whatever it was. He wasn't sure what was going on but Scott, Stiles, and everyone else ran so he did as well. And One thing he was good at was running, he got everywhere by running so he kept up with the packs, stopping just behind Scott or at least close. He tried to stop just behind Scott but the sight of the QUEEN in all her glory made him trip over his own feet and land face first just a little in front of Scott. He quickly dusts himself off, and gets on his feet or more likely is jerked up to his feet by one of the others and gets back to his spot behind his Alpha. The Fairy Queen returns each greeting with a gracious smile, and she speaks first to the entire assemblage. She has the bearing of a practiced speaker, so she can easily make it clear to whom she speaks by her manner alone. "Nearly a century ago," she says in a high, ringing voice, "two great wrongs were visited upon Jason Christopher of House Lupus. One of these, he knows." She gives a slightly deeper bow than before, one that even includes her shoulders. Addressing only Jason, she says, "You have my deepest sympathies for the loss of your wife, Prince of Wolves. Yet, the other wrong--you do not know." She looks again to the entire group. "The second wrong was not murder, but theft, a theft in direct violation of the Unseelie Accords that I, myself, sponsored. When this theft was discovered, I took immediate steps to rectify it, and now that you have unsealed this Way, I come to you to make amends in the name of the Winter Court, who have wronged House Lupus without my leave." She begins walking to one side, then, so that she does not stand between the others and the tree, and then she gives a third bow, this time a proper bow from her waist, and as she rises, she says, directly to Jason, "Jason Christopher Lupus, let there be no feud between your House and mine. Let it be known that Mab does not break her Oath. What was taken from you, I restore." She raises a hand, and a pearlescent mist issues forth from the tree. Reflected in it is a glittering silver archway, and within it appears a silhouette, emerging gradually into the view.... A Way out of the Nevernever opens nearby. Sly arrives from The Nevernever. Alpha of Omegas, and Lone Wolf. Well, there was no mistaking that his reputation preceeded gim with Queen Mab. The question then in Jason Christopher of the House of Lupus' mind was simple. Why? Why was the Queen of the Winter Court here and now? He had noted that The Watchman was on top of a Faerie mound. Was it something as simple as thanking them for awakening it? No. No Mab would not be here for something so inauspicious. This was something more. MUCH more, and that concerned Jason. With so many others around in particular. As Mab speaks, and more specifically speaks to HIM, Jason becomes visiably uncomfortable. His hands clench some as she references his lost wife. He glances unconsciously at Jacob and then back to Mab. Then, his jaw starts to drop as a young man walks through the nevernever and joins them. "What..It's not. I saw the body. I.." He stops himself and swallows hard, breathing through his nose. The scent, the scent was altered. But under it...Gods...Under it... Jason Christopher takes a halting step forward. His lower jaw actually starting to tremble. His voice hollow as he asks quietly. "Ho...How? How is this. What was done..." Another halting step. Jacob listens to Queen Mab's words with growing confusion. He knows what happened to Jason about a century ago, but he doesn't understand what she's talking about. This is definitely not the story he heard. So, growing more and more puzzled as Mab bows again and still more deeply, he watches Jason closely, increasingly attentive for any sign that might help him understand--understand either what this all means or, on an even more basic level, what Jason may need from him. And then, when Jason begins to speak, Jacob's mouth opens. He wants to ask something, say something, do anything, but all he can manage is watching in mute confusion and mounting frustration. Looking between the, um, queen and Jason, Scott has his usual 'I'm not sure what's going on here ... or where my trig homework is' expression on his face that he gets when perplexed. And then the vaguely familiar face registers as the teenager wanders out of the portal or whatever it is. Scott looks back over his shoulder at Stiles and Liam and shrugs. He obviously has no idea what's going on and thus just stays alert and quiet for the moment. Tucson has stayed quiet and as unobtrusive as he could, his own subtle magic maybe even making a couple forget he was even here. He shifts on his sneakered feet in the cold, almost not daring to breathe as She appears and speaks. He wants, very much, to dig a hole and not come out again until Spring. He's quiet, respectful, fearful even, and also intensely curious as to just what got a group of werewolves mixed up with the Fae. The scene that plays out just ratchets up the young coyote's emotions. Holy Shire, what in the actual Mordor is this mythical crap all about?! is what Stiles wants to ask. Then, when the portal opens, Stiles basically expects to see freakin' dragons come flying out or something--well, okay, probably not, since he doubts even Jason ever lost a dragon--but when it's just some kid? Yeah, that's freakin' weird. Stiles returns Scott's puzzled look with a helpless shrug, as if to say, Nope. I got nothin' on my end. Brock continues with his look of 'what the hell'. A feud? Things stolen? Murder? It sounds like a tune he is familiar with, yet the aspects of it bring the lion confusion. His brows knitting together, and at least he has let down his defenses, feeling like he doesn't have to jump in and make with the warrior stuff. His arms fold across his chest, and as something starts to come through, Brock makes with the experimental sniffing. Liam Dunbar recognizes Sly if only casually from around town and school and wonders why he's here in the middle of all THIS. He starts to make a move.The puppy starts to walk right int he middle of trouble, but manages to stop himself, though likely his alpha and their human mascot react at the same time. Liam only takes about half a step about level with his alpha before he steps back all quiet like and watches. "...Dad?" Mab smiles a slow smile that, on anyone else, might be called warm. For the Queen of Winter, it's merely an expression that lacks malice and, perhaps, conveys goodwill. Well aware that Jason may be a bit distracted by the moment, she waits a moment and then speaks anyway, holding up both hands before her, now bearing a large snow globe of obviously masterful craftsmanship. "The one who perpetrated this crime was Lord Ilex of House Hollyfrost, who now suffers my displeasure within my stronghold of Arctis Tor: He shall reap what was visited upon you, yet thrice over. Gaze into this crystal any time you wish to see his fate: For three centuries he shall feel the agony of Winter's Wrath. At the end of that time, he will present himself to you... and beg for his life." Her smile turns slightly towards a snarl, then, and she adds in tones that make "frigid" a gross understatement, "I will leave it to you whether mercy will be granted, but before that time, he must repay his debt to me for his crimes. Apart from this penalty, these things I offer you in answer to his debt of dishonor: First, the life of your son: He is returned to you and placed wholly in your care. I release all claim upon him by the Winter Court and pass him into your care. Second, I swear my Oath that the Winter Court shall never again offer threat nor harm to your child so long as your House offers none to us, and we may live in peace. Third, and in full repayment, I have seen that such magics are laid upon your child that you need never again fear the sting of his loss: He shall not die." Jason Christopher is staring now, not at Mab in all her glory. But at the boy that has appeared. Jason walks slowly up to the young boy. His eyes filling with tears. Hiw lower jaw trembling so much it looks like he is phasing. The werewolf prince has not cried. Not since that day. Not in nearly 100 years. This loss, that in so many ways defined him. This loss that set him on a path that nearly ended in him becoming a monster. A monster every bit as bad as his father, if different. It was the moment the world changed for him. The loss of his family. The loss of everything that was keeping him in some way...Human. Something he never was, never was born to be. But which he found with a wife, and a child. His wife, she was lost to him. But his son....His son was returned. Jason Christopher of the House of Lupus had not cried in nearly a century. But now, he wept. Openly and without restraint. Falling to his knees in front of the child that was lost, and now returned. Queen Mab's words were heard, yes. Later perhaps, he would even have the presence of mind to formally thank her. But right now....His SON. Wrapping his arms around him. His face pressed into his midriff. Jason just clutches him tight. Like any father would, reunited with his child. His son was here, and a piece of Jason's heart that had long been cold, began to beat once more. Jacob Black is not one normally given to being shocked. Until very recently, there wasn't much in life that ever really caught him that off-guard. He's been used to being the weird thing, the shocking thing, thing that makes other people stare. This... well, it's all got him struck dumb. The Fairy Queen is one thing. She's freaky beyond his experience, beyond anything he could have imagined, but she's also, not to be glib, just another part of the supernatural world, however powerful she is. It's not something that affects him personally. Yet, Jason--Jason, since the imprint, is the core of his world, the center of his gravity, and this... is more than Jacob could ever have been prepared for, more powerful than a thousand lifetimes of Bella Swans. Jake takes a couple of shaking steps forward, but then he just stops, staring. What can he say? Nothing could prepare him for this. There are literally no words. Resting a hand on Liam's shoulder, Scott restrains his beta from wandering closer. And then the scene goes from surreal to uncomfortable as the family drama plays out. Shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably, the teenager looks away from Jason and his son and then that raw emotion on Jacob's face. It's always awkward to be a witness to highly personal affairs like this and the fact that it also comes with a walking Disney evil stepmother character and an open gate to ...someplace else... just makes that worse. He says, very quietly, "We should head back to the boat. They've got stuff to talk about." Tucson puts a fist to his mouth, and bites his index finger until the blood comes, watching this scene. He shifts uncomfortably on his feet, and takes slow steps back from where he was standing with the others. "fuckYesGreatIdea," he mutters as he hears this new dude say what he does. Stiles takes this all in with a much more removed expression than most. He does, in tandem with Scott, reach forward to restrain Liam, but he's watching all of this with a look on his face that those who know him well means that, in his mind's eye, Stiles is connecting pieces of information with lengths of colored yarn. From the look he gives Scott, clearly Stiles sees this all a bit differently, considers it a moment of significance. He speaks only very softly, answering his best friend and alpha, "We should wait until the queen leaves. Pretty sure we don't want to insult her." Wow. Things he never thought he'd get to say. Somewhere, his inner thirteen-year-old is doing cartwheels. "Bloody 'ell..." Brock contains his surprise behind a hand that covers and rubs his face. "Had em right under mah nose this whole time. Right under mah own roof in fact." Strikes Brock as a thing of irony. The large king drops himself to sit on his bottom, shaking his head, sending his mane of hair to shift about his shoulders. Liam Dunbar tries to stay still, but truthfully other than the really pretty fairy who is scaring the shit out of him, there's nothing really going on here for him. He tries to pay attention but is kind of dancing on one leg then the other fidgeting wondering if there are any more burgers back at the bonfire. Yep its nice for Jason and all that, but It'd been like an hour since he got food. He might starve! Sly, as Liam and Brock know him, or Roberte, as Jason knows him, hugs his father back in a dazed sort of way, hanging on to him as though afraid he might turn to smoke at any moment. He turns back to look at the Fairy Queen, as though to ask her a question, but then he cringes away and averts his eyes. Apparently, wherever he's been, it's cultivated at least a healthy respect for Mab. Eventually, he finds his voice and says, "I... I didn't remember... until just now. I'm sorry." Then he seems to see the others, looking around, and blinks in surprise. Liam is offered a small, friendly smile, and Brock gets a look of relieved recognition and a nod, as if to say Oh, hi, boss... thanks for the whole 'not letting me starve' thing you did before. But otherwise, for the moment, he too remains overwhelmed by the experience. Mab smiles at the reunion, but then she steps past it, moving around the rough circle of gathered on lookers, her bare feet leaving small prints in the snow that are then swept away by the long train of her dress. She spares a nod for Jacob, saying, "May the joy of your mate please you, Jacob Black." Then she reaches Brock, stopping before him. "And you, who wears the mantle of the King of Beasts, the Winter Court honors you. I sense that you, too, have had stolen blood restored to you, and in recognition of that fact, I grant a boon." She holds out her hand, offering Brock a tiny, glittering jewel. "In repayment for serving as my witness, I grant you this gift: a token that will carry you safely through the Ways of the Nevernever and ensure that you reach your intended destination on the other side, wherever it may be. Your brother will now how to use it. May it serve you well." She then follows the circle, pausing only to smile far too knowingly at Tucson, before she reaches Scott. She looks him up and down thoughtfully before speaking, then says, "Scott McCall. You were not beholden to me in any way, and you had no interests here. You came as a guest, of brave heart and true, and you have also given your service as my witness. Know that Mab never takes without giving in return, and so I give you this." She extends her hand once more to give Scott a tiny silver whistle on a silver chain. "With it, you may summon one of my servants who has my ear, and this servant will come to you in good faith and truce, harming none present unless you exempt them. You may then ask a boon of them, and if that boon is of equal value to the one you have done this day, it will be granted. If not, then we may negotiate for its granting." Again she smiles that cold, inhuman smile of hers, and says to the whole assemblage, "And now balance is restored between us, and our dealings are done." She raises a hand, and the winter surrounding them all begins to fade away as the season is restored. When Mab turns to depart, the snow goes with her. She pauses only as she reaches The Watchman, turning back to look upon those gathered, and says, "Jason Christopher Lupus, we may speak again, when the time is right. As to the rest, know that I am grateful for your service." She inclines her head once more, and then the Queen of Winter vanishes in a final flurry of snow. The weather shifts. It is now: clear. Jason Christopher straightens up after a moment. His back turned to the others as he composes himself. He is a prince dammit. These displays should be...Oh fuck it..Because HIS SON. He turns to the others and clears his throat, which had gone rather dry. He looks first at Jacob, and then at the others. "Jacob, Everyone. May I present my son. Roberte Jason Lupus." His voice nearly breaks. Nearly. Jason of course looks young, younger really than Brock or even Derek Hale. He could pass for a student in Beacon Hills highschool, based on looks. Certainly at Forks Highschool. But he was old. Not as old as the Queen of the winter court, certainly not. But old just the same. Some here knew a bit of his backstory. Understood some of that had been loss. Of why he was so distant, and at times cold. Some also understood how much the wolves of La Push and Beacon Hills had impacted him. To say nothing of those others, coyotes, cats, and immortals alike. But there is a light there in his eyes that had been dead before. One that none had been able to re-kindle, and for obvious reasons would not have been able to. His son was returned alive and well, after nearly a century of thinking he was dead. Cue the most OVER PROTECTIVE FATHER EVER.... Jacob watches Mab as politely as a wolf watching a dangerous predator prowl around its lands possibly can. He frowns visibly as she offers her payments to Brock and then Scott. Why he didn't get one, he's not really sure, but he doesn't care, either. Once Mab leaves, Jacob visibly relaxes. Then, when Jason presents his son, Jacob crosses the few steps between them and hugs Jason, hard, before he steps back and smiles at Sly. "Uh, hey. Nice to meet you." Oh, god. Oh, god. It all just hit him. Jacob Black's life just took its most awkward turn, ever. Scott McCall takes the whistle gingerly, trying not to be offensive but also not really wanting wanting to accept magic stuff from people who bleed power and talk so that you can hear the capital letters in every word. He watches the reunion and then nods and smiles faintly at the introduction and then goes back to herding his group back to the boat and away from the private family and pack business that doesn't really involve them. And as soon as he can, he gets a handkerchief from Stiles or Liam and wraps up that gift, looking at Stiles, "I don't know anything about fairies, but I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to take their stuff, right? Like Leprechauns? We can toss this or bury it or something." Tucson looks like he wants to piss himself as the Queen of Winter favors (?) him with a smile, and only the fact that it would be discourteous - and therefore instantly deadly - does he not bolt from the place right then. He widens his eyes as he listens to the terms she gives the others, and gives this new dude, Scott, a particularly distraught look. "Holy shit, no. You discard a fairy gift and you might as well cut your own throat," he says, as Scott says what he does. "The Fae are all about bargains and deals. You discard it, you're saying that it's not good enough for you, that who gave it to you is worthless." He pales, and swallows. "That, um, that would be bad." Brock bumps his brows up once and tosses a small salute toward Sly, with an estranged look on his face. It's an awkward thing, having been in the situation with Sly that he's been in and now, here he is, Jason's kid. "Almost booted the blighter out on his arse..." he remarks under his breath. As Mab addresses him, Brock straightens up and comes to regain his prince-like composure, standing up straight and playing the respectful noble. "A generous gift, an one that is much appreciated, mah'lady." Brock bows and takes the jewel. Brodie... if he ever gets back... will be happy. Stiles hands Scott a napkin he'd had in his pocket, shaking his head a little. "Dude, this is lightyears out of my league. I've basically got enough research ahead of me to last the next year... or ten." He shoots a look at Tucson and then groans. "Dammit. Did we just get freakin' Frodoed? If we end up having to carry this stupid thing to Mount freakin' Doom, I am officially done. Just done. I'm moving to, like, Florida, or something and warding off all magic with tacky plastic flamingos until I'm so old I forget I ever heard of it." Sly, of course--or, rather, Roberte--has no idea who Jacob is to his father, so the hug leaves him a little confused, but he shrugs it off and raises a hand to wave at the others. "Uh, hey, everyone," he says a bit awkwardly. Sorry for all the... drama. Kind of a long story, I guess, but... nice to meet you all?" He looks up at Jason, biting his lip a bit, and says quietly, "Um, I'd really love to meet all your friends soon, Dad, but... do you think we could maybe, uh... talk? In private, or... something?" Because, well, the last time they saw each other, Sly was a baby. There may be just a thing or two they need to discuss. Jason Christopher returns the hug to Jacob, tightly as well. He will need to talk to Roberte, at length, about Jacob and the relationship they had. To say nothing of make a lot of introductions. He felt young again, as if a weight had been lifted. As if he might jump, and just not land. He approaches the others, an arm around Jacob's waist, and the other around Roberte's shoulders. "I apologize that the welcome party was cut short my friends." Though clearly he just can't bring himself to be THAT upset, given what it meant. "Tomorrow I promise to make up for it, and see you all off tomorrow evening. Please know though, that you are always welcome here. However now I, need some time alone. With my son." The adoration and love in his voice is not something many here will have heard before. Jacob certainly, and some of those close to them like Paul. "If you will pardon me, everyone. Goodnight, I will see you all come morning." Then he wanders into the forest with them, to where ever it is that they stay. Back towards the river. It was a rare moment. Seeing a man that had been called Dracuwolf, Revanwolf, and other even less flattering terms. Well, in many ways humanized. Was there anyone here that couldn't relate to the love, or lack thereof, between a father and son? Anyone here whose life was not in some way impacted by one, or the other? In that, there was a sameness between them all. A point of commonality. A point they all shared and could in some way relate to. The types of connections that would need to be fostered, and multiplied. For true friendships, and alliances to ever be born. Something to perhaps look forward to, in the days to ahead for them all.